


Come In From the Rain

by WardenCommanderCousland



Series: The Light in the Shadow [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-05-04 15:51:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14596410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WardenCommanderCousland/pseuds/WardenCommanderCousland
Summary: "I’m not asking you to sleep in my chambers. I’m just saying you don’t need to choose between a mattress and drowning."





	Come In From the Rain

Drops splattered onto the missive before him, smearing the ink on Leliana’s latest report. Cullen sighed, turning his head to survey the leaking boards above him. Josephine’s construction crews had offered to repair the roof in his office first, but he directed their efforts towards the soldier barracks. He could handle a little inclement weather.

The storm outside was fierce, howling winds punctuated by ever-increasing claps of thunder. The servants predicted this would be a harsh one; Skyhold’s mountaintop vistas heralded the black clouds hours before they reached the castle.

The door across from his desk flew open, slamming into the wall with such force that it knocked the candles from their sconces, sending the smoking tapers rolling across the floor. Rain sprayed in through the opening.

“S-sorry,” Inquisitor Lavellan stammered. The elf shivered, soaked to the bone, long black hair plastered across her head and shoulders. She began pulling on the heavy iron bar. Cullen rushed to join her and they pushed the door back in place with a loud creak.

Wiping the rain from his brow, Cullen asked, “What can I do for you, Inquisitor?” Given the weather, it seemed unlikely that she’d come to add to their increasingly frequent stolen kisses on the ramparts. He tried not to engage with her in his office, wanting to keep their business in there strictly professional.

Adair Lavellan wrapped her arms around her torso, containing another shiver. She glanced at the ladder entry overhead, catching sight of the rain pouring in through the hole in the roof. “You’re not seriously going to sleep in here tonight?”

Cullen shook his head. “I was planning on sleeping in the armory.”

“Where? On a table?” The Inquisitor shook her head. “I’ve told you several times that you can sleep in the castle. Where there is a roof. And beds.”

“That seems…improper.”

Lavellan frowned, a small crease forming between her eyebrows. She knelt to pick up a smoldering taper, pinching the still glowing wick. “Cullen, I’m not asking you to sleep in my chambers. I’m just saying you don’t need to choose between a mattress and drowning.”

“I’ll be fine, Inquisitor.” Cullen said. He blotted the report and slid it into his desk drawer before it could smear any further. She was still standing there, arms crossed, tapping her elbow the way she did whenever she was waiting on him. He realized, somewhat belatedly, that she had her arms crossed for a second reason this time: the rain had soaked through her white blouse, rendering it transparent. Cullen looked away, blushing.

“Enough.” Lavellan said. When he looked up again, she was standing at his desk – Maker, she moved so silently it was unsettling – brandishing the fallen taper like a sword, aiming it directly at his chest. The faint green light of the anchor flickered around the candle’s base. “I won’t have you suffering from a head cold because you’re too stubborn to listen to reason.”

She circled the desk until she was behind him, poking the candle into his back. “Now march, Commander.”

Cullen couldn’t help but smirk, and he raised his arms in mock surrender. Lavellan’s free hand wrapped around his arm, guiding him to the door. She pushed the arm, indicating he should open the door. Once they were through and Cullen had closed the office door again, she wrapped the arm behind his back. “To the castle,” she said, nudging him forward again with the taper.

The rain was blinding and slowed their progress across the courtyard bridge. Cullen knew on a clear day Lavellan could traverse it in mere seconds, but between the darkness, the slick stones, and the rain it took several minutes to make the crossing.

The tower door opened, spilling soft candlelight out on to the bridge. “I don’t know what perverted little game you’re playing, Inquisitor, but I have to say I’m enjoying the show,” Dorian said, moving aside to admit them. An irritated grunt huffed above them, where Solas was perched on his scaffold, painting diligently.

Dorian shook his head. “Are we having a court martial? Stripping our dear Commander of his title? Or of other things? Cullen, have you been a terribly naughty boy?”

The candle poked his back again. “To the library, Commander.”

Cullen crossed the study, ignoring the Tevinter’s continued jests, marching awkwardly due to the marked difference in height between him and Lavellan. “All the apartments are on the other side of the castle.” He said casually, bracing himself on the balcony railing with his free hand.

“If you thought Dorian was bad, the nobles who _are_ in attendance will be even worse.” Lavellan said. She released his wrist. “It wouldn’t matter if you actually slept somewhere else. By dawn the whole castle would know the Commander spent the night in the Inquisitor’s bedchamber.”

She pulled open a door and stuck her head into the hall beyond, then gestured for Cullen to follow. They were on the balconies overlooking the great hall, which were empty due to the late hour. Nobles and Inquisition allies mingled at the tables below. Now that she was no longer frog-marching Cullen through the castle, the Inquisitor had resumed crossing her arms in front of her. A moment too late, Cullen realized she was shivering as well.

“Do you want my cloak?” He asked quietly as they approached the door that would lead to the castle wing reserved for guests.

She shook her head, spraying him with a light mist of raindrops. “You’re about to need it. Unless you’ve changed your mind about joining me.”

Cullen blushed again. “I…er…”

“I’m joking, Cullen.” Lavellan said. “But there are some open rooms in the Inquisition wing, as well, if you’re suddenly less concerned with your illusion of propriety.”

As if on cue, lightning lit up the stained-glass windows and a clap of thunder sounded over the castle, eliciting shrieks from the hall below. “I think I would prefer that,” Cullen said once the hysteria was subdued.

Lavellan smiled and shook her head, waving him to follow her through another hallway. Cullen was impressed with her knowledge of the castle. He hadn’t taken much opportunity to wander it, and consequently really only knew how to find the great hall, Josephine’s office, and the war room beyond it. He’d found Leliana’s rookery once by accident (he thought maybe it was somewhere near the library) and had to be led to the undercroft any time Dagna wanted to share a new brilliant idea for outfitting the troops.

The Inquisitor led Cullen down a new flight of stairs and up a second until they came to a landing that he realized overlooked the corridor leading to the war room. So that was how she knew only to enter once all of her advisors assembled. She never had to wait on them because she’d been spying from above.

“Here,” Lavellan said, stopping at a door not far beyond the landing. She waved over a servant, carrying a pile of linens. “Have someone draw up a bath for the Commander.” She paused, grabbed a lock of her hair, wrinkled her nose and added, “and for me as well.”

The servant’s eyes grew wide. “Together, miss?”

“No, no” Lavellan said before Cullen could protest. “Commander Cullen will be staying in this room tonight.”

After the servant hurried off, she turned back to Cullen and gestured to the door. “Have a pleasant evening, Commander.” And then she was gone.

After the promised bath and returning to his temporary accommodations, Cullen surveyed the room. It had probably been a footman’s or lady’s maid’s quarters in the past, austere and small, with just enough room for a bed and wardrobe. It would work for the night, he thought. But as he laid on the bed, he found himself restless and unable to sleep.

Somewhere in the maze of stairs and corridors above him, she was probably sleeping. Or at least he hoped she was. More than once he’d seen the Inquisitor’s lamps burning as late as his, when he finally climbed the ladder into his tower room. She’d been running herself ragged since Haven, dashing off to Crestwood and then clear across southern Thedas to the Western Approach chasing the Wardens, with stops along the way in order to garner them enough goodwill to be invited to the upcoming ball at Halamshiral. She’d been obsessing over preparing troops for an assault on Adamant fortress while suffering through How to Act Orlesian lessons (that “Game” nonsense) and still tried to make time for everyone closest to her.

He shook his head and sat up, reaching for the freshly laundered shirt and trousers that had been waiting for him when he returned from the bath. He dressed quickly, forgoing shoes. He didn’t want to wake those who had managed to sleep.

The storm had subsided, leaving a soft, clouded glow over the castle. Thin lines of moonlight streamed in through windows, guiding Cullen through the Inquisition’s tower. He realized more of the rooms were empty than filled, presuming that many of Lavellan’s inner circle chose to sleep elsewhere. At the end of the corridor was another door, opening it, he saw another flight of stairs, with candlelight still glowing above.

“Inquisitor?” he called up the stairs, then flinched. He looked back quickly to see if anyone had come to their doors. Despite a lack of response, he cautiously climbed the stairs. If she was asleep, he’d sneak back down.

She was at her desk, pouring over her own stack of reports. A fire was dying in the corner, and one of the veranda doors had been cracked to admit a breeze. The top stair creaked when Cullen’s foot landed on it, causing her to look up. “Is something wrong?” she asked, concern crossing her face.

Cullen shook his head. “I was going to ask you the same.”

Lavellan leaned back in the chair. “I couldn’t sleep. I thought maybe going over Josephine’s dozens of genealogies would help, but…” she cast a glance at him as she trailed off.

Cullen hesitated on the stair, unsure whether to continue into her room or trail off. He hadn’t planned beyond simply checking on her, hadn’t anticipated being here just yet, or maybe ever. He hadn’t allowed himself to consider that. “I…well, goodnight,” he said finally, turning back down the stairs.

“Wait.”

Cullen paused. He hadn’t yet raised his foot.

Lavellan pushed away from the desk and crossed towards the fireplaced, then back to the desk. Cullen stood awkwardly at the top of the stairs, watching her pace the room. “Was there something you wanted, Inquisitor?”

She came to the staircase, resting her hand on the railing. “I wish you’d stay,” she said finally. Standing above him on the stair, she was nearly level with him.

“I can’t,” Cullen said quietly. He reached his hand out and hooked his fingers under her chin, planting a soft kiss on her mouth. “But I want to.”

“So, stay,” she whispered, the words more of a breath on his cheek than notes in his ear.

Cullen took a deep breath. “Not tonight. But soon, perhaps.” He kissed her again and began his descent back into the tower.


End file.
